The Weekly Coos

Amy Shark wears her heart on her sleeve, but unlike most who get described as such, she has it pumping in an open wound, allowing her emotional core to shine as she delivers beautifully enriching stories. Beneath said stories are these loosely calculated indie pop instrumentations that exemplify Shark’s vocals, even if they can sometimes tread familiarity. It’s about what works to fit the dynamic of what the album wants to say, or rather, what Shark wants to relay. It’s personal, more so than before, and the heart being more open than not gives us a new foundation to take in and feel what Shark is feeling as we hear these descriptive moments broken into themes pertinent to one’s sense of self as a human being. Her writing has this punk-rock cadence, where the emotions reflect fluidly through the directness of the lines. As evident from her debut, Love Monster, we hear Amy Shark growing album to album, and part of that comes from freeing herself from the fears, like hiding her relationship when signing her first record deal. Shark finally feels the freedom to love, and it brings us some of her best stuff with Sunday Sadness.

The production is the low point of Sunday Sadness, and much of it comes from the overly poppy track that doesn’t land cleanly on the musical airstrip (“Gone”). It feels slightly jarring as Amy Shark falls into doing something that feels more popular, even if she’s doing it as a parallel to her writing style. It feels like a jarring inclusion that pushes away from the central mainframe of drums and strings eloquently synchronizing as the details edge themselves around surfaces to change the complexity of its pop sound. Unfortunately, to some, that sound may come off as too safe, never looking to make a production busy or a harder throughline from creativity, like the more ballad-like “Babe” and “Our Time Together” or the punk rock “Two Friends.” Yet, that shouldn’t be a deterrent since it speaks loud, pushing these songs above the fray, like the fun of “It’s Nice To Feel This Way Again,” which relays a driving force in her music because she feels more real. The claps and bass grooves give it more of an island-pop feel beneath its synths, but importantly, it’s like we’re hearing Shark feel more herself, happier to feel and reflect through an authentic POV.

Authenticity is a tried, and sometimes trite positive marker one can say about artists because authenticity should always be there, whether you like it or not, but there are more roots to it here. In the industry, some more desirable artists get pushed into perpetuating a persona to sell more records (being single); however, that can be slightly inauthentic as the artist speaks to how some emotions feel, even when it isn’t all parallel. It was never a hindrance for Amy Shark, as she found new avenues to showcase her inner self. It’s why her last album, Cry Forever, felt so real; she didn’t feel confined to making certain songs and instead allowed herself to be herself in this complex world. It’s why songs like “My Only Friend” and “Can I Shower At Yours” feel so refreshing, especially the latter. The former completes the circle for Amy Shark; it features Tom DeLonge of Blink-182, the last of the trio, after having Travis Barker on her previous album and Mark Hoppus on her debut. It’s a straightforward duet that gives us DeLonge’s more tender vocals, similar to what she did with Hoppus in her debut; “My Only Friend” is a beautiful tale about a relationship that holds love through the blemishes.

“Can I Shower At Yours” is my favorite track off the album, and there is no hiding it. It’s stark and naked (no pun intended) as Amy Shark lets us feel how it is to get those immediate butterflies at the start of the relationship, showcasing the next level of comfortability and doing so beautifully. Reminding me of “Want You In My Room” by Carly Rae Jepsen, it plays itself free and fun, not feeling confined by the external noise and letting that 1:1 connectivity shine. “Loving Me Lover” expresses happy guilt, wherein she can work on her craft knowing that those she misses (and misses her) will always be there with that confident connectivity they have of happiness when she achieves her goal. “Beautiful Eyes” speaks about taking the jump and having a life instead of feeling like you should whisk it away playing it safe. But Shark maneuvers these beautiful songs with inner ferocity, and vulnerability, which isn’t new for her fans. It’s a strength that illuminates through the downs, particularly when compact in a breezy musical snack you can binge and refill with the same flow.

I quite enjoyed Sunday Sadness, and more so cause it felt homely, rooting itself in reality as Amy Shark maneuvers with us through this world she’s living in emotionally. There are many highs, and a noticeable low, but it comes together in this beautifully wound project I couldn’t help but replay. I hope that same sentiment attaches to you, cause this compact snack is one that never goes stale.